


Residual Warmth

by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes here the nights he's alone and can't sleep, though apparently there's another option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Residual Warmth

Things start getting clearer, coming into contrast as the sky takes on the misty pastels of dawn. That pale blue-grey Stiles had never wanted to be so familiar with. The birds have been singing for a good half hour, but now he can finally see them, flitting through the branches of the trees around him. He blinks wearily, rubs at his eyes, tugs his sweatshirt closer around him as this growing awareness of the surrounding world finally registers the chill of the morning air. It's cool, but not cold. Not really. Not like that night. Not like-   
  
There's a faint whisper in the air, or in his head, it's still hard to tell sometimes. "Sssstiiiiilllessss."   
  
He tenses, shivers.   
  
"Sstiilesss."   
  
His eyes squeeze shut and he clamps his fists over his ears. It's not real. It's _not_. He's here, fine, safe as anyone can be in Beacon Hills. When he opens his eyes, he'll be right where he was when he closed them. It's not-   
  
"Stiles?" He jerks, inhales sharply, as a hand rests tentatively on his shoulder. It retreats, though not far. When Stiles opens his eyes, he's right where he was when he closed them.   
  
"Fuck," he swears softly, more relieved than anything, and looks up into hazel eyes as he runs a shaking hand through his hair. "Hey."   
  
Derek nods, once, looking him over with concerned eyebrows, probably trying to find some sign of injury, but there isn't any. Stiles is fine. At least, as fine as he ever is these days.   
  
"What are you doing out here?" Stiles asks.   
  
Derek raises an eyebrow, sticking his retracted hand in the pocket of his leather jacket. "Your dad came home this morning and you weren't there. Scott took the school; Melissa's checking the hospital. What are _you_ doing out here?"   
  
Stiles swears again. "Sorry. Can you let them know I'm fine? I just… lost track of time." Derek nods, but makes no move to do so, still studying Stiles.   
  
Stiles sighs, shivers, pulls his sweatshirt tighter again as he hoists himself up. Derek steadies him when he sways a bit, his limbs stiff from sitting on a hard surface all night, and the heat of Derek's hands through his hoodie makes Stiles aware of just how chilled he is. He leans into it, just for a second, before pulling away.   
  
"We should probably head back," he says, grabbing his phone from the stump, finally noticing the various texts and missed calls he'd received while his phone was silenced. He heads in the direction he'd left his jeep but stops before he gets too far, turning back to find Derek still in the same place, staring curiously at the nemeton.   
  
"I, um, I can't sleep," Stiles finally explains, "when there's no one else in the house. I always think, if there's no one there to stop me, who knows where I'll wake up. I know it doesn't make any sense, this thing is a frickin' hellgate or something, but. I feel safe here. Saf _er_. I always feel like myself."   
  
Derek's eyes are sad, but he nods and finally joins Stiles on the trek back to the road. It always seems to change distance, each time Stiles makes the trip. This time is long and filled with an awkward silence that lasts until Stiles breathes into his cupped hands to heat them up, and suddenly there's a heavy warmth around his shoulders.   
  
"Are you serious?" Derek keeps walking, staring resolutely at something in his hands, probably his phone, and he looks almost bashful. Stiles grins, sliding his arms into the sleeve, and the jacket actually fits fairly well. "Dude, that was a full on first date cliche. Careful, I might start thinking you actually like me or something."   
  
Derek ignores him. Once they get back to their vehicles, Stiles goes to give the jacket back, but Derek stops him, face as serious as ever.   
  
"Give me your keys."   
  
Stiles gapes.   
  
"What? No. Dude, I'm fine. One hundred percent awake and sober. All faculties in possession." Derek just raises an eyebrow until Stiles gives in. But Derek doesn't get in the driver's seat of the Jeep, doesn't even move towards his own car. Instead, he threads a new key onto the chain. "What-"   
  
"I still have a spare bed," Derek says. "And I would hear if you went anywhere. Just- keep it in mind, the next time this happens."   
  
He hands the keys back, and Stiles stares at them, speechless. Though he doesn't miss the small smile that twitches at the edge of Derek's lips.   
  
"Stiles," Derek calls to him a moment later as he opens the door of his car, and Stiles finally pulls his gaze from the metal in his hand. "I do."   
  
"Do what?"   
  
Derek smiles. Actually smiles. "Like you."   
  
And then he drives away, leaving Stiles standing there, wrapped in Derek's residual warmth, holding a key to his loft, and Stiles can't help smiling even when he remembers he has to go home to a worried dad.   
  
Later that day, as he sits in class fiddling with his keys and not hearing a thing Finstock says, he sends out a single text, and it's worth it even when Coach singles him out for "inappropriate grinning".   
  
**i like you too** , it says.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr.](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com)


End file.
